


24 Hours

by Shinocchi



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Gift Fic, M/M, Making Love, Plot Devices, Plothole Fill, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Reminiscing, Riding, Sensuality, Ship Manifesto, Slow Build, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 17:17:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15733920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinocchi/pseuds/Shinocchi
Summary: There are certain hours in our life that change us as a person. Koujaku is no exception to this.24 hours is all he needs to make him the man he is today.Written in Koujaku's POV, a look into pre-canon, canon, post-canon of the 24 hours that'd changed Koujaku's life.





	24 Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Koujaku! It is also my sixth-year anniversary since I started publishing stories on this website :D 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it and also, as usual, kudos and comments are always much appreciated! <3

Most of us were given a century of lifespan to live. That would make about 876,000 hours for us to make use of our life. How one decides to exploit every hour is really up to the individual. Of course, not every hour will be rewarding. Without taking account the hours that will be consumed for basic human necessities (like sleeping, eating, showering), there is a huge number of hours that will be squandered on not doing anything at all as well. There’s nothing to feel guilty over, it’s just rudimentary human instincts, one may even say that it’s part of human’s chucks. A break is to allow us to travel on a longer journey after all, isn’t it? Conversely, all in all, one can also not negate the hours that would make humans for what they are, who they are, and how they turn out to be. These hours are unpredictable yet crucial in one’s life, for they are the ones who will shape one’s mindset, change the course of one’s life direction, and eventually decide what kind of person will we turn out to be.

Koujaku, being a mere mortal, was no exception for such law of nature.

His life wasn’t full of marvels, neither was it vibrant.  He wouldn’t say that his life was any better than most but he was lucky enough to encounter moments that led to acquaintances which had then given his life meaning throughout the average lifespan a human being goes through.

It’s like he was watching a short film documenting all of those moments he’d overlooked throughout the course of passing time. They were important reminders to him, telling him enough that even when the world burned and took him away from being mortal, he’d still made a difference, for himself or for others. For once, he’d _live_ a life that he wouldn’t exchange for anything else.

 

_` Hour 0.5` _

 

The first **half an hour** that had marked an important turning point in his life was within the two days he first set foot into Midorijima. It was all black and white until when he met eyes with the boy living just down the street, who appeared to be the same “girl” he’d saved from some bullies on the first day he came to the island, and who apparently lost more than he thought he had. It’s nice being dependable; it was something he sought for since he and his mother decided to pull themselves out of their noxious family in mainland. He’d tried to be the independent child his mother would like to see but despite all the compliments and warm smiles his mother had given him throughout the days, deep down, he knew that he wasn’t as near to what he really wanted to be.

Seragaki Aoba changed that. Right from the moment they met eyes, Koujaku knew that Aoba saw something in him, something he dreadfully wanted to be seen: it’s the hero figure he’d always wanted to be, nothing fancy, no superpowers, no notable background, just a person who would be there and who would be enough for someone. Just a person who can be depended on.

That’s why it hurt him more than it should when they left Midorijima. He could see it in Aoba’s eyes -- the betrayals, pain, and disappointments. All the emotions he’d seen in his father’s eyes when he grew, everything that he pledged to not seeing again, that he never wanted to be anyone’s disappointment anymore.

But little did he know that very resolution contributed to the longest **two hours** of his life.

 

_` Hour 2.5` _

 

He knew from the moment the ink tinted his body that he’d sealed his way out of his roots once and for all. He’d be stuck in a cage that was under his father’s control, having nowhere to escape, and being a slave to his father for the rest of his life. He thought of many things when he tried to distract himself from the pain. He thought about his mother, how his father was treating him now. He thought about life ahead of him, how he would soon be a puppet to his father’s wishes. He thought about Aoba, how his face would look like when he knew Koujaku had become the person he swore not to be, killing, harming, torturing; all because he was born into a family he never wanted to be part of.

“Aoba…”

The word fell from his lips, sluggishly and cripplingly, his vision steamy, his mind thawing into darkness for the umpteenth time since the tattooing process started. The days he spent with Aoba felt a lot like a dream now; there were many times when he mused if he’d forced himself into an illusion just so he could escape his reality. He was at his breaking point and it wasn’t at all strange if he fell dead just like that. But that’s not the worst part. The worst part was: he didn’t.

“Aoba? A lover, I wonder?”

The devious sound in the voice of his tattoo master gave birth to an anonymous fire sweltering him from the hollow of his stomach. Ryuhou. He’d caught his name when his father introduced them and he’d known of how much of a threat this man could be. But he never expected the pain could be so extreme, and that this man was never as sympathetic as he claimed to be.

“Don’t worry, Koujaku,” Ryuhou spoke to him, all the while gliding needles after needles on his back as if he was simply drawing on a canvas. “You’ll get to meet him again once we’re done with this. Promise me you won’t die? Not until you show me the result of it.”

Koujaku wasn’t even sure if he was hearing it right but there were words like ‘monster’, ‘masterpiece’, and ‘insanity’ that he’d heard from Ryuhou that he couldn’t tell if he was only imagining them. The tattoo master was simply doing his job – rejoicing in it, even -- but for Koujaku, it’s far from that. The stinging sensation on his skin was nothing compared to the weight he had to carry on his shoulders for the rest of his life.

Perhaps it was because he was experiencing the worst time in his life that he was starting to hallucinate. Throughout the entire time he was being worked upon, he could hear more than Ryuhou’s voice. He could also hear his mother’s, Aoba’s, sporadically, his father’s. Sometimes, he could even see shadows, mirages, dancing past his mind like he was watching a silent film. It’s like he’d lost control of his body and his mind and all that he could do was watch as scenarios after scenarios took over his conscious without being able to do anything.

And that was when he realized, those weren’t scenarios, definitely weren’t hallucinations.

Those were real.

He stood in the sea of blood, hand clutching his sword, his body fouled with blood that wasn’t his. For a long while, he couldn’t hear anything. No sound, no voice; just out-and-out silence. It’s when his eyes fell onto the corpse laying by his feet that he found his voice, and it wasn’t one of pleasant. It was a loud, ear-splitting scream; all his fear, frustration, agony, all released in long minutes. Even when he’d lost his voice, he continued to scream, as if he was searching for help, or for someone to come and punish him for all the horrific things he’d done with his very own hands.

But no one came. He was left all alone -- he’d massacred everyone who was once his family.

He’d lost everything.

Instinctively, he spun the sword around, having the tip of the blade to press against his abdomen. This was it. He should’ve known right from the moment when he decided to return that there’s no way out for him. His life had been decided for him even before birth. Regardless of how unfair it seemed to be, there’s no way for him to oppose it. He should’ve ended his own life before he took others.

Before he killed his own mother.

At that moment, a voice pealed in his ears again. He opened his eyes, staring at the sky through murky gaze.

Aoba. The disappointment in Aoba’s eyes when he left was clear and loud, yet there’s still unquestionable hope concealed beneath the lens of grief. Even now, he must be waiting for Koujaku to come home, to fulfill his promise.

To make it right for him.

He can’t do it. He let the sword collapsed to the ground and wail. He hated himself so, so much. But he couldn’t kill himself now, not when he knew there’s still hope. It’s pathetic. He hated himself.

But there’s nothing else he could do.

 

_` Hour 3.5` _

 

He struggled to his mother, weeping by her side as he gently lifted her head and placed it on his lap. Her mother’s eyes were closed as if she’s just sleeping. Koujaku hugged her head, still crying.

 _Sorry_ , again and again. _Sorry. Sorry._

He knew his mother would never hear him again. He should’ve told her before this happened too. Everything was too late now. But yet, hallucinated, he could feel a soft stroke on his head, accompanied by another voice.

 _It’s okay_.

The voice told him.

_It’s okay._

That was the longest **hour** of his life, where all he did was sitting in the sea of blood with his mother in his arms, crying.

 

* * *

 

_` Hour 6.5` _

 

It’s not a second chance. The Koujaku from before had perished in mainland when he lost his entire family in his own hands. The Koujaku now, though… was a different person. Even so, he never forgot everything, let alone putting everything behind him now that he’d moved on. Whatever happened in mainland will always be the same nightmare he visited every night. When he ever forgot about it, even ever so faintly, the tattoos on his body will always be an explicit reminder of what a monster he really was.

Aoba could never know about this.

During the long **three hours** he spent on his boat trip traveling back to Midorijima, he felt like he was about to stumble into his own delusion of reality all over again. It could be a bad habit, like some sort of coping method for him to stay sane. So maybe he could forgive himself for that.

“I wonder how does Aoba look like now?” Koujaku wondered out loud as he stared wistfully out of the window. Sea breeze brushed past his face as sunshine shone warmly on his skin. He could barely remember how he felt when he voyaged out of Midorijima. For all he knew, he could be sleeping, knowing that’s the best way to stay ignorant, and missing all the scenes he was watching now.

“Maybe one day I can experience this with Aoba,” Koujaku continued, snickering at his own wishful thought. He couldn’t quite imagine Aoba stepping out of the island. But who was he kidding anyway? He’d never contacted Aoba for years, he didn’t even know how Aoba had turned out now. Maybe Aoba had moved out, maybe he found his parents, maybe he’s…

Koujaku shook his head. _Stop_ , he reminded himself in his head. _Stop speculating the worst scenario_.

Aoba must be doing well. Midorijima wasn’t the safest place for one to lead a normal life, he knew about that, but it’s definitely safe. If Aoba wasn’t involved in any perilous matters then there’s no reason for him to not be safe.

Koujaku took a deep breath, slouching on his seat with his eyes closed. He really needed to do something about this habit of his. Always assuming the worst, always being too vigilant and too paranoid.

He definitely didn’t want Aoba to see him in such a wretched manner.

“Hmm… Maybe I should bring something with me? It’s been so long after all,” Koujaku muttered with a hand on his chin.

“Going home?”

A sudden voice had Koujaku looking up, just to find himself looking at a woman sitting right opposite him. Thanks to his own tension and being totally engulfed by his own thoughts, he hadn’t been catching a good look around him. Now that he came to himself, he noticed that many passengers had taken their seats around him, one of them being the woman who’d just strike a conversation with him.

“Ah… yeah, kinda,” Koujaku said with a stroppy smile, scratching the back of his head at the same time.

“I see,” the woman pulled a trifling giggle with a hand covering her mouth. She’s a middle-aged woman, wearing thick-red lipsticks, and dressed in a long flowery dress. She didn’t seem to be a local. And if the bright green color of her eyes was any indication, she must be someone from the west.

“How about you?” Koujaku asked. It’s weird if he didn’t attempt to continue the conversation now. The woman had taken her first initiative and for all Koujaku knew about women, it must have taken a huge gut to approach a stranger like himself like that.

“I’m on vacation,” the woman answered in a lighthearted tone. She seemed to be enjoying herself a lot. “Where are you heading to?”

“Midorijima. It’s been… well, a while,” Koujaku said, trying as hard as he could to say more than one word.

“Midorijima, I see,” the woman’s eyes narrowed. “You plan to try out Platinum Jail too?”

“Platinum Jail?” Koujaku perked a curious eyebrow.

“It’s where I’m heading to.”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t been around for a while. What is this… Platinum Jail?” Koujaku persisted.

“It’s an entertainment district established by Toue Corporation,” the woman explained. “Probably one of the best things that had ever happened to Midorijima. I can’t see how a man like you would stop by in the neighborhood.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Koujaku interrupted. Something felt off in this conversation. The more he knew about Midorijima, the more Koujaku felt like he’s slowly but surely losing the only place he’d like to call home now.

“Oh, nothing’s wrong with it. It’s… how should I put it? It’s pretty complicated? Small… and quite normal,” the woman lagged, struggling to find words to describe a Midorijima that’s not Platinum Jail.

“Normal is good,” Koujaku broke into a grin.

“You think so?” the woman’s eyes brightened, obviously surprised. “I think you’re more fitted with dramatic stuff, you know? You look like the man who’s bound to do great things. Midorijima will only restrict your potential.”

“It’s fine,” Koujaku waved his hand, brushing the woman off. The sense of relief returned to his guts, he no longer needed to know about anything else pertaining Midorijima. “A simple life is what I need now.”

Their conversation ended there. He’d known Midorijima as a complicated yet humble place. It’s what he needed: a place where power wouldn’t blind the concept of normality and how routines were considered as a guilty ecstasy.

He wasn’t at all worried about how much Midorijima had changed now that he’d heard what the woman said. For all he knew, he was more concerned about what to buy for the Seragakis when he stopped by for a visit later.

The mere thought of seeing Tae and Aoba again sent a chill down his spine.

 

* * *

 

Even after he’d managed to land safely in Midorijima, he still had no idea to what he should buy for the Seragakis. The thought of knocking on the door empty-handed wasn’t an idea he was very fond of. He roamed the streets, habitually checking the time and constantly finding himself dropping jaw at new-fangled districts that had never existed when he was here years ago. Midorijima had changed, that’s for sure. But it wasn’t as stark of a difference as Koujaku expected it to be. It still had the parochial air to it, despite the huge premium district now taking up one-third of the land (something that had Koujaku frowning at). Some of the old shops were still up and running, and some of the back alleys, even the playground where he first met Aoba, all looked the same as how he remembered them to be.

In the end, he settled for a small fruit basket -- the most common gift he could think off -- and stepped on the path heading towards the Seragaki household.

He was surprised by how natural his memory could be guiding him when it came to searching his route back to a place where he was exceptionally fond towards. There wasn’t a need to think too hard; his legs simply knew where to bring him.

When the sight of the familiar building came nearer and nearer, Koujaku released a stretched sigh that had been crushing him from the inside ever since he boarded the ship. He drew another sigh of relief when he found himself staring at the “Seragaki” nameplate on the front door, knowing that his dreads were now nothing but dust and that any moment now, he’d be seeing Tae and Aoba again.

After all these years…

“Okay, Koujaku, just stay cool,” he mumbled to himself in front of the gate, closed his eyes, then raised a knuckle.

When he was just about to knock on the door, the door swung open, revealing an old lady.

“Huh? You are…”

Caught off guard, Koujaku staggered and trod a few steps backward, almost dropping the fruit basket in the process.

“L-Long time no see, Tae-san!” his voice echoed, a bit higher note than usual. “Do you remember me?”

Tae narrowed her eyes, ogling vehemently at Koujaku, pondering. Then, her eyes brightened.

“Koujaku?”

“Yes, indeed,” Koujaku broke into a wide beam. “I’m back.”

He was calmed when Tae told him that it’ll take a while for Aoba to come back. Apparently, Aoba had now landed himself a job and was now living a guileless life like any other resident in Midorijima would. It’s the best news Koujaku had heard since a long time ago.

“Is… he doing fine now?” Koujaku asked. He and Tae now sat in the living room, teas on the table.

“More than fine,” Tae huffed. “Noisy. But fine.”

Koujaku laughed silently. Noisy. Not something he’d associate with Aoba; it made him anticipate meeting him even more now.

“I’ll get ready to make dinner now,” Tae said after a strained silence. Standing up, she sauntered leisurely to the kitchen, stopped, then turned around to look at Koujaku. “Stay for dinner. I’m sure you have a lot to catch up with him.”

“If it’s not too much of a trouble,” Koujaku answered with a smile.

All Tae did was waving her hand at Koujaku’s direction then continued walking into the kitchen, leaving Koujaku all alone in the living room.

 

_` Hour 7.5` _

 

If Midorijima hadn’t changed a bit, the Seragaki household was even more so. Everything was in the exact same places as Koujaku remembered them to be. It felt like he’s gone back in time, to when he’d spend hours keeping Aoba company when Tae was not around, those nights when he’d hid under the blanket with Aoba, and those days when they’d simply hang out in the living room talking and playing with each other.

Noisy, huh? Koujaku reiterated the same term in his head. Aoba never occurred to him as an outspoken person. He’s always introverted, easy to tears, and Koujaku was perhaps the only person whom he’d spoken out loud to. There must be a reason to why he’d experienced such change, maybe something happened, or maybe Aoba grew from all the awful experiences he’d gone through when Koujaku wasn’t around.

Or maybe part of the reason to why he’d changed was all thanks to Koujaku’s departure.

That kind of stung him a bit.

“Granny, I’m home!”

A garish voice from the front door had Koujaku jumping a little in his seat. That must be Aoba. His hands draped steadier around his teacup, his heartbeats drumming raucously in his ears. What should he say to Aoba? What would Aoba think about him? What should he ask first? Tons of questions he never considered before flooded his thought process. Yet, before he could come to a conclusion, the front door was opened. He heard footsteps, and finally, there he was: Aoba, standing on the doorframe, taking his shoes off.

“Huh?”

When they met eyes, both of them was stunned for a few moments, simply staring at each other, as if they’d caught ghosts in their eyes. Aoba’s motion froze, one hand on the doorframe, another on his shoe half-hanging from his leg.

“Hey, Aoba!” Koujaku finally brought himself to call out to him. “Long time no see!”

Aoba’s jaw dropped. He was still visibly perplexed as he continued ogling at Koujaku for a few seconds.

“K-Kou-Koujaku?!” he yelled, so loud that his voice echoed and bounced off the walls in the living room.

In the next second, brash footsteps could be heard stomping their way out of the kitchen.

“Why are you so noisy?!” Tae fumed out at Aoba.

“B-B-But, Koujaku is, Koujaku is…!” Aoba staggered, his words scattering and cluttered.

“Yes, Koujaku is here. Now calm down and get over it already!”

With that said, Tae rushed back to the kitchen, leaving Aoba to stare cumbersomely at Koujaku.

“Koujaku, you’re back…” he said at long last. The astonishment on his face was gradually fading away but his tone was no less shocked than before.

“Yeah, I’m back. It’s been a long time, isn’t it?” Koujaku scratched the back of his head self-consciously.

“Indeed…” Aoba agreed, still trying to come back to himself. “Oh, but—I’m sorry it took a while, but.”

With a pause, Aoba hurried towards Koujaku and smiled at him. It’s the same smile Koujaku had seen many times when Aoba was a child, the same smile that’d never fail to warm his heart and the same smile that had saved him from taking his own life.

“Welcome back, Koujaku. It’s nice to have you back.”

That was the best **hour** of waiting for Aoba. It started with apprehension and tons of pressure but at the end of it, Aoba’s smile and Aoba’s earnest welcome made everything worth it.

Regardless of how much Midorijima had changed, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Aoba didn’t. He’s still alive and beating and like Tae said, noisy, and that’s more than enough for Koujaku.

 

* * *

 

Everything seemed to be horse-racing on the right track now that Koujaku was back in Midorijima. Not only that he managed to reunite with Aoba (that Aoba was doing more than fine, even), he also managed to get his life together, using the money he’d saved from when he was mainland to find a roof for himself to stay under.

And then, everything seemed to have fast forwarded. Of course, Aoba remained to be Koujaku’s first point of contact when it came to catching up with the changes around Midorijima. But even when Koujaku didn’t ask, Aoba seemed to own this sense of responsibility to help him around Midorijima as much as he could. Aoba did not ask him about whatever that had happened to him since he left Midorijima. But he thought that the fact that he returned without his mother was pretty self-explanatory on its own. To be honest, even if Aoba was to ask, Koujaku couldn’t guarantee that he would be able to make up a good explanation for everything that had happened.

Their silence and nonverbal rule to give each other space took some time getting used to. But in no time, they were able to get around it and treat each other like how they used to as if they’d never been separated.

That’s what Koujaku loved about Aoba. He always knew the line he had to draw and yet, he would never back down if there came a time when he needed to step in.

It was also from Aoba that he came to acquaint Mizuki and then came to know about Rib. Honestly, being part of a team came last on his priority list. He wasn’t quite sure if he could even handle himself now, let alone a team. But Mizuki counseled him otherwise.

“It’s the best way to get used to the place,” Mizuki patted him roughly on the back one day when they were all hanging out in Black Needle, a bar Mizuki ran. “What do you say, huh? Join Dry Juice! I’m sure my boys will welcome you with opened arms!”

Koujaku shrugged with a chortle, pushing Mizuki’s hand away.

“He’s not really a follower, Mizuki,” Aoba added, sipping indolently on his cocktail. “I can’t even imagine him taking orders from someone else.”

“Is that so? Well, it’s not like I’m giving orders or anything. We just kinda hang out and do our own thing…” Mizuki mused out loud before his eyes lit up, one hand punching on his palm. “If that’s the case, why not you gather your own team?”

Koujaku’s eyebrow raised; _that_ captured his attention.

“It’s not hard,” Mizuki persuaded. “You just need to look around for people. Besides, you look like a cool man yourself. Pretty sure you’ll find a team of your own in no time.”

“Try it out, Koujaku,” Aoba supported, now stirring his drink with a small spoon.

“I don’t know what to feel about Aoba supporting me to be part of a violent group now,” Koujaku sniggered nonchalantly.

“Now, that’s where you got it wrong,” Mizuki beckoned a finger with a free hand on his waist. “A Rib team doesn’t need to be violent. It’s just a place to belong. I treat Dry Juice members like my own family.”

A place to belong. A sense of belonging.

Aoba stared intriguingly at Koujaku as Koujaku contemplated. For some reason, Aoba always gave out the impression that he knew exactly what Koujaku needed more than Koujaku did himself. And there’s no way he could say no to those teasing gazes of his either.

“Fine, fine,” Koujaku grunted at long last. “I’ll try. If I can’t get anyone, then we get over this idea, alright?”

Aoba grinned and returned to his drink, Mizuki immediately slung an arm around Koujaku’s neck and started telling him all about Rib, where he could find potential victims, and what exactly did Rib do.

This might not be so bad, after all. But Koujaku wasn’t sold at the idea of people voluntarily wanting to follow him. He’s just a stranger and a newbie in Midorijim with no power and no credibility. So he was almost sure that it won’t work out just like how Mizuki and Aoba convinced him to be.

But he was wrong.

He followed Mizuki’s instruction, jabbing in obscure alleys, markets, shops, catching sight of sole wanderers who looked like they didn’t have any purpose to life. He tried talking to them and he was sure he could see reservations in their eyes but for some reason, they all nodded their heads in the end, telling Koujaku that they wouldn’t mind if it’s Koujaku who’d be the one to lead them.

Koujaku was _very_ taken aback by it. How could people trust someone so easily like that? Exactly how much did he miss from Midorijima when he wasn’t around?

But like Mizuki said, he’d catch up in the fastest way if he was to do this. And it was when he stood in front of his small group of Benishigure members, a week after he’d started his manhunt, that he finally felt it: the sense of belonging.

 

_` Hour 8.5` _

 

For **one whole hour** , all Koujaku did was mingling around, getting to know every single person by face and by name. It’s important. They weren’t just tools for him. They _trusted_ Koujaku, a man whom they knew nothing of.

That meant a huge deal to Koujaku.

“I won’t promise wealth and prosperity,” Koujaku said out loud during his very first leader speech in Benishigure’s first ever base. “But if you follow me, if you trust me, I promise that I’ll protect every one of you. That’s one thing that I can offer. Welcome to Benishigure.”

He knew it was not a mind-blowing speech but he was unpretentious about it. Protection, the one thing he wasn’t able to give his mother before she passed on, and the only thing he wanted to do now that he’s back on the island. Not only that he was able to keep Aoba close by his side now, he could also protect _more_ people.

It made him feel wanted, that people were able to depend on him. It made him feel right for coming back to Midorijima.

 

* * *

 

As more years went by, Benishigure became a huge deal, to the extent that it was able to stand side-by-side with Dry Juice, the largest Rib team in Midorijima. Mizuki burlesqued Koujaku for it over some time but he eventually came to terms with it and told Koujaku of how proud he was for what Koujaku had achieved. Koujaku named it a pure dumb luck. Mizuki said it’s because of his earnestness to do good, which had Koujaku laughing at himself, finding the idea ironic.

Life seemed to be going on the right track now; everything was proceeding well, too well, even. And Koujaku knew that it could only mean one thing --

That everything was merely calm before the storm.

Sure enough, when trouble came finding for Aoba, he knew that this was the one time when he couldn’t risk _not_ protecting Aoba. He found all the ways to get himself involved, already putting himself in the line of death and was more than ready to put Aoba before himself.

But what he never expected was meeting his despicable past in the midst of complications. It caught him off guard, staggered him, and eventually causing him to lose balance.

It’s pathetic when he thought about it. But his past had some sort of impact to him that even he had no control over. All the nightmares, waking up in the middle of the night feeling like his tattoos were strangling him, and all the vivid memories of himself standing in the sea of blood with corpses surrounding him still scrunched him from the inside no matter how many times he’d seen them. He thought as long as he was able to put on a mask, convinced himself that there’s no way he’d revisit the past that he was able to move on.

But he was wrong.

Seeing Ryuhou did things to him. Dreadful things. It’s like Ryuhou was the personification of his tattoos, rousing the sleeping beast from within him and pushing him to lose control.

 

_` Hour 9` _

 

When he felt like he’d finally reached the limit, that he’s finally at the ending line of his life, Aoba was there to pick him up. Again. When he was lost in the gravity of his melancholy, it was Aoba who towed him back up, the **half an hour** in Scrap exposed him to a truth that he never realized it himself. He spilled all the pain, sorrow, angst, misery, bottled-up in his chest. All that he’d done, all the things that he’d never forgive himself.

But…

Aoba forgave him.

Aoba, who hugged him, slapped him awake, telling him to snap out of himself, reminded him that he shouldn’t risk losing Aoba again.

“What about me?” Aoba asked. It sounded like _do you plan to leave me alone again?_ in Koujaku’s ears. And it did things to him.

It’s pathetic, really. But that’s why Aoba was great. That’s why Aoba would be the only person to bring him home, no matter how lost he was, and where he was lost at.

 

_` Hour 10` _

 

He came to a resolution, putting an end to his lingering thinking in the hospital after the incident in Platinum Tower, just **an hour** before he was discharged. For the whole week he was in the ward, he’d had second thoughts of how he thought he should approach the matter. Maybe he was doing it too hastily, he speculated. But when he thought about it, was it _really_ too quick, though? How long had he been pushing his own feelings away just so he could pretend that they didn’t exist? He couldn’t really tell even if he tried. Maybe his feelings had existed even before he wasn’t aware of it. Maybe since he returned to Midorijima, or even earlier…

He shook his head. This was giving him an immense headache now. What’s with the eerie cold sweat anyway? Why was he afraid? It’s only Aoba.

...Or was it?

He plunged his head into the pillow. This was too unlike him. Koujaku, the leader of Benishigure who’d brushed shoulders with death many times, now afraid of simply… talking to a childhood friend. _No_ , Koujaku shrieked in his head. _This isn’t just talking. This is…_

He closed his eyes, regulating his breathing.

_This is a confession._

And somehow, once he’d finally admitting to himself how he really felt about Aoba, a strong sense of relief streamed in his nerves, calming him down.

He should’ve done this years back. But he didn’t. And he knew it was because of the guilt and terrible reminders he’d had to live with all by himself throughout the entire time that had pushed the thought out of his mind. The fact that he finally had the courage to do it now was because of Aoba, for he’d crumpled his nightmares once and for all.

He was no longer alone.

 

* * *

 

The Day speedily came. Even Aoba noticed how uneasy he seemed. If Koujaku’s eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, he was certain that he’d caught sight of Aoba’s own discomfort too. Aoba had dropped by countless times when he was in the hospital and none of those times were as awkward as this. Even when they were under the same familiar roof, they both could tell how rigid the air was and how hard it was for them to keep their conversation flowing.

 _Aoba must have known_ , Koujaku wondered when Aoba ran off to cook his fried rice. _Am I being too obvious?_

But what needed to be done still needed to be done. Taking in a deep breath, Koujaku closed his eyes, firming up his resolution, and continually assured himself that if he was able to bring himself well, there’s no way this wouldn’t end well.

And that was how he ended up with his longest **hour** with Aoba ever since he returned to Midorijima.

 

_` Hour 11` _

 

It’s definitely not easy. Trying to break down his emotions was harder than the mind-numbing fist-fight he was so used to. He felt as if he kept saying the wrong word, correcting himself over and over again, panicked as Aoba’s expression became more and more troubled. He really didn’t want to screw this up. He can’t afford to.

“I’ve liked you since we’re children,” he finally blurted, red raising to the tips of his ears. Aoba’s hand was warm in his, red-hot, and he was sure he caught sight of Aoba’s flushed face when he peeked from the corners of his eyes.

He wasn’t seeking for Aoba to return his feelings. It’s fine if Aoba didn’t feel the same, it’s fine if these were all his one-sided feelings. He just felt the need to tell Aoba before he exploded.

But then, Aoba said he might feel the same.

He _might_ feel the same.

Koujaku thought he should probe further on those. But it’s too much for him to endure. To have his feelings being returned, even when it’s just a slim hope, a possibility, was more than enough for him.

And even if it’s just a _tiny_ possibility, Koujaku wanted to catch it and never let it go.

He did it quite literally, though. Before he could control himself, he’d launched himself at Aoba, hugging him, causing him to lose balance and tumble onto the bed.

“H-Hey!” Aoba tussled but didn’t push Koujaku away.

It’s surreal. Just about a few hours back, they’re still friends but now they’d taken another step into a region Koujaku never once dared to imagine. The edginess from before now melted into thin air, replaced by a penetrating sort of self-doubt instead.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked prudently, hands shuddering a tad when it came near to Aoba’s naked skin. “T-There’s no turning back after this.”

Instead of answering him, Aoba reeled towards him and kissed him on the lips, enough to douse the tension in him and eliciting a dark fervor at the bottom of his guts.

“Hurry up before I change my mind,” Aoba said with a pout, flush splashed on his cheeks as he obviated eye contact with Koujaku.

Koujaku didn’t need to be told twice. At this point, he was certain that Aoba knew him far better than he ever could himself. And Aoba obviously knew how he was always more of an action person than a man with words. That’s why he was urging him on to give him the answer with his body.

Koujaku wasn’t an inexperienced man. But with Aoba, he was raw. He’d never dared to imagine touching Aoba, let alone making love with him. When their skin made contact, it felt as if he’d accidentally hurt him and crush him if he’s not careful, and he was so restless about his own racing thoughts that he staggered at various points, bordering between the line of surrendering to his instinct or staying loyal to his gaudy reasonable conscious.

 

_` Hour 11.5` _

 

 **Half an hour** of making love with Aoba made him feel like they’d spent a whole year on the bed. He told himself that he should forgive himself. It’s their first time, and ‘feeling good’ shouldn’t be the priority. Aoba clearly knew it too. He _should_ know it, seeing how _he_ was the one who’d pressed Koujaku on.

That’s perhaps why he was smiling so pleasingly when Koujaku collapsed by his side after having connecting and disconnecting their bodies for the first time ever. It wasn’t a gratifying lovemaking session; it was all raw instinct and unpracticed motions, everything that Koujaku wasn’t when it came to having sex. But it was something else: something far more important.

It held the answer to both their questions to how their relationship will continue on from now.

 

* * *

 

For some time, it felt like nothing had changed between them. They were as close as usual, doing the same thing they were already doing when they’re the best of friends. The only difference was that Aoba would drop by Koujaku’s place more often than usual, and occasionally, he’d stay over too. Tae seemed totally oblivious about what was happening between them. It’s too common, nothing suspicious. But that’s exactly what made it so tough for both Koujaku and Aoba.

At first, they acted like it’s okay, that there’s no need to talk about it yet. It’s understandable. They wanted to get used to the subtle but ensuing change in their relationship and the last thing they wanted was to rush things through. There were things in between them that they needed to handle before they could think further. And eventually, those getting-used periods will pass too. In its place was how they’re going to break the news to everyone around them, and obviously, the first person that came across their mind was none other but Tae.

It’s just appropriate. Tae was the only family Aoba had left and if there’s anyone who deserved to know about what was happening between them, it definitely was Tae. It took a long time for Koujaku to finally bring it up, though. It was one night after they’d shared a virtuous lovemaking session, one that was way more practiced than the first one they shared, that Koujaku sat with his cigarette at the window sill, deep in thought.

“Spill it,” Aoba had prodded him in the rib then. He sounded sleepy, but his eyes were no less stern.

“What is it?” Koujaku forced a smile, immediately had Aoba frowning at him.

“Whatever you’re thinking now,” Aoba pressed.

Koujaku pulled a long sigh then. There’s no way he could hide from Aoba. Shaking his head a little, he extinguished his cigarette, then turned to face Aoba properly.

“Tae-san,” he started unhurriedly. “We should tell her.”

Aoba’s frown vanished in an instance and Koujaku instantly knew that he’s been thinking about it himself for some time now.

“How?” Aoba asked, then hurriedly continued. “I mean, sure, I agree, but…”

Aoba fell silent then, hugging onto his knees as he buried his face in between them. Koujaku threw an arm around his unclothed torso, effortlessly scooping him into a cuddle with one tug.

“We sit down with her and tell her we have something that she needs to know.”

“And then?” Aoba’s voice hushed in between his knees.

“And then…” Koujaku dwelled. “We tell her.”

Koujaku knew it wasn’t much of a reassurance. He also knew where Aoba came from. There’s no telling how Tae would feel about their relationship. It’s not something one can easily bring up for discussion across dinner. Everything was just about to set sail, but now they’re already worried for their future.

If all failed, Koujaku will think of something.

He promised Aoba, kissing him lovingly on the lips and enveloped him in a stronger embrace as they braced themselves for a sleepless night.

But it turned out that their sleepless night was all for nothing after all.

 

_` Hour 12.5` _

 

“You think I wouldn’t figure it out, who do you think I am?”

While the both of them braced themselves, all ready to defend themselves when rejections came, they were both smacked in the face by a response they’d never expected.

“W-Was it that obvious?”

Aoba was the one to break the rigid air in the living room of the Seragaki household. Tae sipped rowdily on her tea, frown deep on her face. Koujaku swallowed down his throat for the umpteenth time, cold sweat drenching his back.

This must be the most horrible **hour** he’d experienced since he came back to the island.

“I watched both of you grow,” Tae snorted. “Do you think I won’t notice the changes that have been happening between you? I was just wondering when you’re going to tell me about it.”

“I apologize for that, Tae-san,” Koujaku hastily voiced out. “We should’ve told you earlier.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tae swayed a hand. “Both of you must have a lot of things to figure out too. There’s no rush. It’s not like I’m expecting any grandchildren anyway.”

Aoba pulled an awkward smile, Koujaku swallowed again.

“But you are serious, are you?” Now Tae was perking an eyebrow at them, her tone weightier.

Koujaku straightened himself before he took Aoba’s hand in his. Their hands were both sweaty, the whole situation was slowly but surely wearing them out. Yet, using the final ounce of courage left in him, Koujaku said,

“I’m serious, Tae-san. Aoba is very important to me. I’d do anything to protect him and give him the happiness he deserves. I hope…” Noticing he’d been speaking too fast, Koujaku quickly paused and took in a deep breath. “I hope you can entrust Aoba to me.”

Aoba’s face was boiling by now. Koujaku had said everything he wanted to say. Every hint of qualms from yesterday felt like an illusion. He thought he should say something, but Tae was drinking her tea again, pondering. Once she put her cup down, Aoba began,

“Granny, I’m serious too. I— We’ve known Koujaku for a very long time so I’m sure you are aware of what kind of person he is—“

“Reckless. The leader of a Rib team,” Tae interrupted, causing Aoba to gulp the remaining of his words back in. But Tae broke into a trifling smile then, before she continued. “But deep down a kind man, always ready to help, and reliable.”

Both of them knew of nothing to say. They’re completely stuck. Facing Tae was worse compared to having to face more of those dog AllMates in Platinum Jail.

“It’s not up to me to decide,” Tae said after a good minute of observing them. “It’s for _you_ to decide. I’m not going to live your life for you. You have to choose the best route for yourself.”

“That means…” Aoba muttered, but Koujaku was already grinning broadly. He stood, catching Aoba off guard, and gave Tae a ninety-degree bow.

“Thank you so much, Tae-san! I’ll look after him!”

“And he’ll look after you too. Seriously, both of you are hopeless!”

And she was right, that’s why they were perfect for each other. They could look after each other’s back, be each other’s hero, and whack the other awake when they fell into the wrong path.

If there was another thing that had made it more nervous for Koujaku than the meeting with Tae, it was the day Aoba finally let him cut his hair. He didn’t really have much of an obsession towards hair in general; what truly enticed him was the process of it, like the way time passed unobtrusively while he let strands of hair flowed and took their shape in his hands. It’s like fixing dead ends, fixing those roots that branched out and brought them back to the right spot that he deemed fit. Every time he cut one’s hair he felt as if he was reminding him about all the guilt and sins he would have to make up for the rest of his life. It’s one way for him to feel less remorseful at night, and perhaps also one thing that would help lessen the likelihood of nightmares he’d get that night.

But cutting Aoba’s hair meant otherwise. It meant more. Sure, it still felt like he’s mending stuff but more importantly, it’s _Aoba_. He’s making it up for Aoba; it’s the only reason he’s back here in Midorijima. He knew whatever persuasion he told himself were all nothing but his own self-gratification, even a lie to make himself feel better. But at the same time, he also knew that it’s something that should be done.

He loved Aoba’s hair; anything of Aoba, really. And he honestly had no issues with how Aoba’s hair was like before. He loved the wavy style, the way gradient picked up at the end of his strands, and how the spikes held its style in just the right way. Aoba told him that he could do anything he wanted with his hair, even though the glare Aoba gave him when he suggested going bald meant otherwise. And so, he did the first thing that came to his mind: to cut it short.

Metaphorically and emotionally, it meant a start-over for both him and Aoba. He’d be overseeing its growth like how he saw Aoba’s for many years to come. It’d be a clean cut for the both of them. In a style sense, Aoba would look good in short hair too. That’s what Koujaku genuinely thought. Aoba would look good in anything. When he offered to tell Aoba what he planned to do with his hair, Aoba turned him down, gave him a playful smirk, and told him to ‘surprise him’.

He’s going to get surprised for sure.

 

_` Hour 15.5` _

 

And so it started. It was a whole **three hours** of a long process, the longest Koujaku had ever cut one’s hair. Both of them were quiet when it happened, just noiseless air, the sound of wind, wind chime tinkling blithely in a distance, the buzz in the street outside of Koujaku’s window, and the voice of birds chirping. Peaceful and undisturbed. Koujaku, surprisingly, didn’t feel as nervous as he thought he would. He focused on the strands of Aoba’s hair, his hands moved in an expert way that was beyond professional, and little by little, the style took place.

He did it. For them now, it’s officially an entirely new starting. There’s a lot to look forward to.

 

* * *

 

_` Hour 17.5` _

 

“Is that everything?” Koujaku called from the second floor of his bedroom window at Aoba, who had just lifted the last of his luggage off a truck.

“Should be!” Aoba responded, one hand above his eyes, blocking the sunlight out of his vision as he looked up at Koujaku.

“You sure you didn’t forget anything?” Koujaku teased. Aoba glowered, then rushed into the house without saying anything.

“Even if I do,” he said once he opened the door to his new home. “My house is just a few streets away. I can always go home. And I plan to.”

“Now, don’t do this. You just moved in and you’re leaving already? You got to be more considerate towards an old man’s feeling,” Koujaku hauled Aoba’s arm over, pressing him to sit on the bed with him.

“Old man? You’re using that again, aren’t you? For all I remember, our ages are not very far apart, Koujaku,” Aoba pushed against Koujaku, who now had both arms locking Aoba in his embrace, cheek pressing against the top of Aoba’s head.

“I do feel old from the inside. Aw man, I really admire all the energy you have. Mind sparing me some?”

“Excuse you,” Aoba punched Koujaku jokily on the abdomen. “Who’s the one insisting for a third-round last night?”

Koujaku laughed, voice booming around the space. Since early in the morning, both Koujaku and Aoba had been busy going through and forth from the Seragaki household to Koujaku’s house. Today was the day Aoba officially moved in to stay with Koujaku. Aoba had been staying over at Koujaku’s more and more recurrently by now and it wasn’t just a week before when Tae finally snapped and told Aoba to move over that the plan finally came into fruition. Aoba was worried about Tae but voicing his concern out resulted in a round of scolding from Tae and all that he managed to promise at the end of their rowdy discussion was to come home at least three times a week for dinner with Koujaku.

It felt surreal when he looked around the house. Barely **two hours** had passed since he settled into the place but now he felt as if he’d used up ten years of his life to move in. It wasn’t any better for Koujaku, either. He’d been helping as much as he could but ultimately, that was just so he could distract himself from wondering if this was all real or he was simply dreaming. He was used to living alone, handling things alone, being alone. But having Aoba in his house now will change things.

Aoba, at his house. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the truth sink in.

“Hey, you okay?” Aoba poked him on the arm, sounding concerned.

“Yeah… Yeah, fine, just…” Koujaku released a hefty, deep sigh. “A lot of things have changed, isn’t it? Coming back to Midorijima, meeting you again, being together, and now… this.”

“And things will keep changing,” Aoba supported. “There’s a long road in front of us, Koujaku.”

Koujaku knew about that, of course. Sometimes, it felt like he was on a speed track, rushing down the road without having the time to enjoy the scenery around him. And before he knew it, things around him had changed, even he himself had changed.

But Aoba had never once changed.

Swathing his hand around Aoba’s waist, Koujaku heaved Aoba over to kiss him on the forehead, then cuddling him steadfastly in his arms.

“You’ll be with me, right?” Koujaku asked silently as if he was talking to himself.

Aoba returned his hug, patting him calmly on the back of his head with his head buried against Koujaku’s shoulder.

“Of course I will.”

And it’s only natural for them to proceed to the next stage in life after this. Even so, it took about half a year for Koujaku to finally break the word. The only problem was: it didn’t happen the way Koujaku had expected it to.

 

_` Hour 18.5` _

 

He’d have everything planned out with Mizuki. Black Needle was pleasantly set up and closed to outside visitors for a whole **hour**. Both Dry Juice and Benishigure members in position, confident after having practiced the same sequence for the umpteenth time. But what caught them off guard was one glass of alcohol, the same glass of alcohol almost ruining the plan for them.

It all started when Aoba walked into the shop, as promised, then sat in front of the bar counter where he was greeted by both Mizuki and Koujaku. Mizuki joined them in their conversation for a bit before he walked away, talking about needing to serve customers. When all that was left were Koujaku and Aoba, they fell silent; Aoba inaudibly sipping on his drink while Koujaku’s fingers quivered at the grasp of his beer can.

“What’s wrong?” Aoba asked, noticing the abnormality in the air. “Something happened?”

“Oh. Oh no, it’s not that,” Koujaku hastily answered, drowning one huge gulp of his beer into his throat at the same time.

“You’re acting weird,” Aoba said candidly.

“A-Am I?” Koujaku stuttered, immediately regretting his choice of words.

“Uhuh,” Aoba nodded. He sat up, turned around in his high stool and came to face Koujaku. “Something happened, isn’t it?”

“It’s not that, really,” Koujaku dragged a fake cheerful beam. “Don’t worry, Aoba, you know I’ll always tell you if something goes wrong. Drink up!”

Koujaku thrust the cocktail glass towards Aoba at the end of his words, attempting to buy himself time for him to get the words out of his chest. Aoba eyed Koujaku deviously, then went back to drinking. He didn’t seem like he was about to pursue further and it comforted Koujaku a little. For a stretch of a long fifteen minutes, all they did was drinking on the counter until Mizuki tackled Koujaku and gave him a rough thud on the back.

“Hey, Koujaku, didn’t you have something you need to tell Aoba?” Mizuki asked boisterously, the grin on his face awfully fake, his eyebrows raised and fell, hinting.

“Wh-- Mizuki! Shh!” Koujaku clambered.

“C’mon now, you aren’t really here just to drink, are you?” Mizuki spoke stridently again, this time winking at Aoba’s direction. Aoba, however, never shunted an inch, as if he hadn’t been hearing what the commotion was about. The tips of his ears were red, pink flush smeared his cheeks.

“Okay, okay!” Koujaku roared. Finishing up the rest of his beer, he sneaked a hand into the depth of his sleeve to take out a small maroon box, then lugged his stool over to Aoba so that he could sit closer to him.

“A-Aoba,” he called out.

“Hmmm?” Aoba answered languorously without looking at Koujaku.

“There’s something I need to ask you,” Koujaku said, sounding deep and serious all of the sudden.

“What is it?”

“I... “ With a pause, Koujaku picked Aoba’s hand up, finally having Aoba to look him in the eyes. Aoba’s gaze was misty yet curious all the same. He gaped at Koujaku with a deadpanned face, his mouth opened ever so slightly.

Koujaku raised the small box and opened it, revealing a ring.

“W-Will you marry me?” he said. The noise around him muted in an instance, all that he could see was Aoba’s face, and all that he could feel was Aoba’s temperature in his hand.

“What…?” Aoba responded after what felt like forever.

“I…” _Is he seriously expecting me to say this again?_ “Will you marry me?”

“Marry you?” Aoba echoed, as if trying to solve a riddle, his head tilted to one side.

“Yes, Aoba.”

“Marry… you.”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm…”

 _Is this something you need to think about?!_ Koujaku screeched inside. He quaffed down his throat, waiting fearfully, his train of thoughts running wild at the possibility of rejection.

But Aoba’s lips elevated to an upbeat smile then.

“Okay.”

“What? Really?” Koujaku probed, eyes wide.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll…” Aoba enfolded his arms around Koujaku’s neck, jerking him over to kiss him on the lips before he hiccupped. “I’ll marry you!”

“He’s drunk,” Mizuki, who’d been witnessing the entire scene from behind Koujaku, said in a flat tone with a face of disbelief.

“I can’t believe this,” Koujaku murmured.

“I’ll marry you, Koujaku!” Aoba said deafeningly. “Let’s get married!”

In the next minute, the entire bar bellowed in cheers and applauses. It was their cues. And It was taken in a wrong way.

“Oh well, you’ll just have to tell him he agreed when he’s more awake later,” Mizuki guffawed and patted Koujaku roughly on the shoulder. “For now, we’ll take it as a yes and we’ll celebrate it first. The result won’t change anyway.”

Koujaku knew Mizuki was right. It wasn’t like he wasn’t hinting about wanting to take their relationship to the next step with Aoba before and Aoba had never once shoved the idea away.

The only thing he’s afraid of now… was how many punches he could expect from Aoba when he told him that he’d agreed to be his husband…

...when he’s drunk.

 

* * *

 

_` Hour 20.5` _

 

The most magical **two hours** of his life came in the next six months after Aoba said yes to his proposal. Of course, not after a round of pillow fight, shouting into Koujaku’s ears, and a good makeup sex to put an end to the fiasco. It wasn’t the best vision of how Koujaku had envisioned his proposal to turn out to be so he swore to make it up during his wedding. Preparations were done in a tantalizing way; they didn’t want the whole Midorijima to make a fuss out of it and all they ever wanted was a modest ceremony with their close friends and family and that’s about it.

Since early in the morning, Koujaku had been pacing around the place, annoying Mizuki, his best man. He fine-tuned his kimono for the twentieth time, checked his hair piece, his face, his hair… everything he could catch sight in the mirror before he repeated the same process in the next five minutes.

“Calm down,” Mizuki finally growled. “You look fine, Koujaku.”

“I know,” Koujaku said, and Mizuki raised an eyebrow at his response. “I mean, argh, what else can I do?

“You can start by sitting down first, you’re making me dizzy,” Mizuki tapped on the empty chair by his side.

Koujaku did as he was told, having no idea of what he should do to ease his tension. As soon as he was seated, Mizuki massaged him on the shoulder with a smile.

“Everything will be fine. It’s your big day, enjoy it.”

“I… know,” Koujaku straggled at the end of his words before he groaned noisily then concealed his face in his hands, back bent. “No, I don’t. Do I really deserve this, Mizuki?”

“What are you talking about? Are you seriously having second thoughts now?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… I’m not sure if Aoba should be with me. There must be a lot of better men--”

“ _Koujaku_ ,” Mizuki interrupted him before he could continue. “You have _no idea_ how good a man you are.”

“You don’t know!” Koujaku cracked, looking up at Mizuki with a face of frustration. “I’ve been through things, do horrible things. And I cannot guarantee it won’t happen again.”

“Tell me which man isn’t guilty of what they did in the past?” Mizuki countered. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re aware of it and you aren’t going to repeat the same mistakes again.”

“I have no control over it!” Koujaku defended. He stared at his palms, recollecting all the nightmares he’d seen, tarnished in blood, monsters roaring in his ears. As long as he still had the tattoos on his body, he was keeping a monster in his soul.

“Okay, calm down, take a deep breath,” Mizuki solaced, rubbing him on the back. “And listen, you’ll be fine. Have more faith in Aoba. He’s not weak and he knows what he signs up for when he gave you the yes.”

Mizuki was right. He still remembered clearly how Aoba had reproached him one night just a few months back about how Koujaku was always deciding his feelings for him. He needed to repeatedly remind himself that Aoba was no longer a child and he had a better control of his own feelings than Koujaku had on his own. Aoba probably even agreed to tying the knot with him simply because he knew that would be the best way to support Koujaku throughout his life.

“You okay?” Mizuki asked after a binge of silence.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” Koujaku said, flouting into a small smile. “Thank you, Mizuki.”

“No problem, we’re friends, right? And I’m your best man today!” Mizuki chortled brazenly.

But from the moment Koujaku saw Aoba walking down the lane at the time of their ceremony, he knew that this was all meant to be. Sure, his monster could be eating him up for the inside, but at this moment, he wanted this. He wanted _Aoba_. He wanted to protect him, to support him, and to live with him as much as Aoba wanted to.

His soon-to-be husband was the most gorgeous man he’d ever met. With his hair slicked back, Aoba wore the kimono as if it was made for him, his smile so happy, so bright as he came to meet Koujaku.

“Now, don’t freak out,” Aoba whispered when he finally came face to face with his fiancé. “Stop thinking about ‘ _oh no, I don’t deserve him_ ’, because that’s what I’m thinking now and I want to punch myself, so I don’t have hands to do it for you.”

Koujaku chuckled. Genuinely. Joyfully. He was happy. He was so, so happy. This was the day they’d truly become one. It’s the day they recited their vow under the witnesses of everyone that mattered, showered by blessings, and it’s the day they finally titled each other their husbands.

Koujaku could no longer remember how many vows he’d given Aoba but every one of them was sincere. He truly meant it. As long as Aoba still wanted him by his side, he’d always fulfill every single one of them -- until the end of his life.

 

* * *

 

Treading into a new stage in their relationship was more than just a label, it’s also a lot about opening up, being downright transparent, and respecting each other enough to know how to entrust truths and secrets to each other.

Koujaku thought that could be something he should work on. It wasn’t like he’d been purposefully eluding the topic of his family background but it’s more like he’s been purposefully escaping, trying not to think about it and living in true bliss believing that things should be left in the past.

But it didn’t sit right with him, even more so when they’d put the rings on each other’s fingers on the day of their marriage.

“Sorry for making you tag along,” Koujaku apologized in the bus heading towards their hotel in mainland.

“What are you apologizing for? Do you really think I’d let you come alone? Besides, we’ve been visiting your mom’s grave together since years ago,” Aoba protested. Ren and Beni sat on the window sill, gawking at fly-by-night scenery while they’re at it. The two AllMates had come to become accustomed to the trip by now. It’s a long one, but it didn’t feel like it with the right company.

“This time, it’s more than that,” Koujaku explained, completely frank.

“Hm?” Aoba perked a curious eyebrow, eyeing Koujaku with suspicions written all over his face.

“I want to tell you about my family too. My father… and, what he did,” Koujaku said deliberately. Aoba’s expression turned to one of a surprise then. He kept quiet for a tad, then held Koujaku’s hand in his.

“You don’t need to if you don’t feel like it. Moreover, you already told me about what happened back then,” he assured. “I don’t really mind not knowing.”

“I want to,” Koujaku reaffirmed, putting one hand on top of Aoba’s, smiling. “I need to do it for myself. I need to face it.”

Aoba said nothing after that. Aoba might be opinionated about a lot of things but the best thing with him was he always knew when he stopped pushing on someone. He listened, did his own share of pondering, and proceeded with the best route that could best benefit both of them. It’s one of the many things Koujaku loved about Aoba. That’s why it never bothered him to discuss anything with him, even though he learned it the hard way from when they first started going out together about what would happen if Aoba found things out for himself before he could tell him. Nowadays, he voiced his concerns out like it’s natural. There’s no use hiding from Aoba anyway; Aoba will always find out.

“Okay then,” Aoba said at long last, when they’re almost nearing their accommodation. “I’ll listen to you. Everything you have to say.”

“Thank you, Aoba,” Koujaku took Aoba’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Let’s go home.”

After settling down their luggage, they left the hotel, heading into town. Aoba had visited Koujaku’s old home with him once, about a year after they made their feelings clear with each other. It wasn’t pleasant. Aoba could only imagine how it looked like on that night and how Koujaku might have felt when he was all alone, forced into committing a crime he didn’t ask for and losing everything in just a night. There’s no way a child like his age could’ve lived through that kind of horrific experience. But Koujaku did. And Aoba admired him greatly for that.

 

_` Hour 22.5` _

 

However, when Aoba allowed Koujaku to lead the way, he realized that Koujaku wasn’t intending to visit the house again at all. They spent a good **two hours** merely strolling in town, stopping at stalls selling local delicacies and handmade souvenirs, shopping, and sightseeing. Everything a typical tourist would do when they drop by mainland. Aoba thought Koujaku was still trying to figure out how to break it to him. But Koujaku seemed like he was enjoying himself a lot; he smiled when Aoba found interest in some of the petite ornaments and snorted when Aoba mistook a panda for a bear. He was being like his total self it had Aoba thinking that he’d misinterpreted what Koujaku meant when he said he wanted to tell Aoba more about his family.

When the sun was about to set, they walked into a restaurant for dinner, and that’s when Koujaku finally spilled the bean over three dishes of superbly lavish food that Aoba had never seen before in his life.

“It feels good to be able to walk around town like this, no restriction, just freely wandering around,” Koujaku said, munching on his meat. Aoba merely listened. He was having difficulties peeling shells off his prawns when Koujaku took it off his hand and peeled it off for him. “When I was back here before, we were always surrounded by bodyguards even when all we were doing was walking on the streets. Bodyguards… more like, delinquents.”

Koujaku chortled at the end of his words.

“ _Yakuza_ s are feared here,” Koujaku continued, taking a few cabbages off the plate while he’s at it. “They’re like the master of the land. They kill, perform underground business, and threaten like it’s natural. You can say it’s part of their job scopes. People here seemed to have gotten used to it. As long as you never cross the wrong path with the _yakuza_ s, you should do fine.”

“But I hated that life,” Koujaku said, drinking red tea from his glass. “Respect stemmed from fear is not respect. It’s unreasonable governing. No matter how many times I tried to talk to my father about it, he’ll never listen. He insisted for me to be the heir, wanted me to take over the _yakuza_ here and continue his black-market business. When I told him I won’t do it, he’ll beat me up, imprison me, torture me, saying that it’s just a test I need to go through before I could own the land.”

Koujaku sighed a little then. He put his chopsticks down, staring at Aoba, who was chomping on dumplings now.

“It was forced upon me. I hated the _yakuza_ s with all my life. But I had no choice. I needed to protect my mother.”

A little hint of gloom brushed past Koujaku’s expression but he nippily replaced it with a trifling smile, putting a piece of meat into Aoba’s bowl, before he continued,

“You know the rest of the story. It’s been years since I revisit this place but as I grow, I come to understand better of this world that I was never fond of.”

“The _yakuza_ world?” Aoba asked after not speaking for some time now.

Koujaku nodded. “It’s part of… well, culture. I still don’t like how they carry things out but it’s still part of my root and I feel that I have an obligation to really understand what it is even though I might not like it.”

And that’s why Aoba adored Koujaku so much. He never ran away from his problems, nor his terrors. He’d always face it like a true, mature man. It made Aoba feel safe by his side.

“I don’t intend to be part of any _yakuza_ business now, don’t worry,” Koujaku guffawed at Aoba’s jaw-dropping reaction. “I only wanted you to know what my family was like. They’re part of me after all.”

“And the _yakuzas_ are now… gone?” Aoba asked, reminded of how Koujaku mentioned that they could now walk unreservedly on the street.

“Yeah, I guess so. The massacre on that night took out most of them,” Koujaku confirmed with a deep voice.

“ _It’s not entirely bad then_ ,” was what Aoba wanted to say before he stopped himself. There were still lives being taken. It’s way too irresponsible to put it that way.

“I’m just glad people here are starting over. Like me,” Koujaku ended with a grin.

“And I’m glad you share it with me,” Aoba returned his smile. Standing up, he leaned towards Koujaku and ruffled him on his hair. “Opening up means accepting, I’m glad it turns out this way for you.”

“And it’s all thanks to you,” Koujaku chuckled and ruffled Aoba on the hair as well. “It’s thanks to you that I can now truly move on.”

That was what he thought.

 

_` Hour 23.5` _

 

He could have gotten over his oblivious approach towards who his family really was, how he was covered in blood on that one momentous night, but the bills for who he really was eventually came due.

It only took **one hour** for Koujaku to realize he’d been underestimating how _dangerous_ the monster in his body was. It happened decades after the tattoos were rooted on his skin when he caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror and noticed how blood-red was creating its mark on his black swirls. He had his own suspicions but he chose to take one step at a time. There’s no medical solution for this, and as much as he would love to have the tattoos removed, it also meant he’d need to scar his entire body for it, not to mention how life-threatening that could be.

He wouldn’t call it losing control; there wasn’t any vehement tendency to it, but he could clearly tell from the way he’d experienced abrupt blackout that his body was fighting against him. At nights, he’d feel the something writhing from beneath his chest as if it was struggling its way out of his body and it exasperated him that there’s nothing he could do to make it stop.

Finally, it was that **one hour** when he was stuck in the borderline between reality and dream, pushing his conscious out of his head when he was asleep, that he knew that it’s time to come face to face with his greatest fear.

He was in a cell, blooded handprints on the wall, alongside cavernous scratch marks that were definitely not made by humans. He looked around to find himself being in the company of a man that look peculiarly like Aoba. He was wearing a smirk Koujaku never knew and he was soiled in white, like a piece of paper.

“Koujaku,” he called out, voice one octave lower than Aoba’s.

“Who are you?”

“How does it feel like living with a monster in you for decades?” the man questioned without answering Koujaku’s question.

Koujaku halted his words. But the man obviously wasn’t waiting for any answers.

“Scary, isn’t it? Like your body isn’t yours, like something is taking over it.”

The man spoke in such a matter-of-fact way it made Koujaku suspect if he was speaking from his own experience.

“Aoba was like that too, you know? Years and years ago,” the man purposefully dragged the last of his sentence as he came closer to the cell.

“I lived in his mind, like a monster, wanting to take over.”

“Scrap…” Koujaku muttered, reminded of Aoba’s past experience.

“But of course, I didn’t do it in the end, that’s why I’m here, stuck in between realities, having no way out,” the man continued like he didn’t hear Koujaku.

“What do you want?” Koujaku said, tone stern.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not trying to hurt Aoba. He’s me after all. I’m just here to tell you…” he lingered, one finger shepherding Koujaku over and traced a gentle line along Koujaku’s jawline. “...that I’ve reunited with your monster, so don’t be afraid. You’re a free man now.”

Even when he woke up with a start, Koujaku still had no idea what that man implied. But he could no longer feel the vehement time bomb under his skin even when his tattoos were still intact. He felt as if he’d been transported to another world when he was sleeping. When he turned his body to the side, he caught sight of Aoba, sleeping steadily, completely unaware of what had happened to Koujaku.

With an affectionate smile, Koujaku filched a finger along Aoba’s cheek, drawing a line along his jawline like how the man did in his dream. It’s been decades since they were together, yet Aoba remained like how he always looked like while Koujaku had started to see signs of himself aging. Aoba was a true miracle in all senses, and it’s totally not overstating for him to say that his good karma might have been the reason for him to stay strong and healthy all these while.

He leaned in to kiss Aoba on the nose, causing Aoba to wrinkle his nose, before he encircled his arms around Aoba, trying to fall back to sleep.

 

“You’re really growing old.”

“Where did that come from?” Koujaku laughed.

The next morning, he’d woke up feeling utterly fresh and awake, despite the nightmare. Aoba was already awake when he opened his eyes, just to find him playing with the short strands of his stubbles.

“Look at these. Didn’t you just shave yesterday?” Aoba said, stabbing hard on Koujaku’s chin.

“Yes, they grew back overnight. It happens,” Koujaku said, massaging his chin at the same time. Aoba was right. He’d need to shave again later.

“It wasn’t like this a few months ago,” Aoba brought up. “You’re really growing old.”

“What can I do? I’m just a tiny human being under the manipulation of the mighty higher being. I have no control over the life cycle.”

Aoba pouted. Sitting up, he budged and straddled on Koujaku’s waist, catching Koujaku by surprise.

“What are you doing?” Koujaku asked, wide-eyed.

“Taking the remaining of you before your age catches up on you,” Aoba said with a smirk. Then, he shunted himself downwards, tugging onto Koujaku’s pants and setting Koujaku’s dick free.

“Aoba, listen,” Koujaku struggled but stopped his motions when Aoba gave him a glare. “Don’t you think you’ve become more and more upfront these days?”

“You don’t like it?” Aoba questioned while he fiddled the soft erection, trying to bring it to life.

“It’s not that but… it’s not good for my heart. You know, I’m turning into a real old man soon. I might get a heart attack.”

“Then get used to it,” Aoba said, grinning when Koujaku hitched a breath, his dick sluggishly gaining weight when Aoba started rubbing on his balls.

“Aoba…”

Whatever Koujaku intended to say next was forced back down his throat when Aoba took his length into his mouth, sucking and licking like he was enjoying a superbly delicious food. Aoba had gotten so much better in blowjobs throughout the years. Koujaku was hesitant when they first started to have regular sex but eventually, they had become habitual with the idea of getting used to it and needless to say, blowjobs had been one of the things they’d been doing for each other during sex now.

When Aoba rolled his tongue around the head of his dick, Koujaku clinched onto the mattress, biting onto his lower lip. Seriously, that tongue was lethal. Since when did he become _this_ good? Not only that, Aoba also had a way with his fingers; he knew how to squeeze the length with enough strength that had Koujaku dangling between coming and calming down. It’s Aoba’s style. He liked keeping things as long as he could.

“A-Aoba, enough, I’m com--”

Aoba released Koujaku’s dick with a loud pop. He kissed the tip with a small smirk, rubbed the length for a few more times, then whispered, in a hot, deep way,

“You can come, Koujaku.”

It’s as if Aoba’s command was the switch. Koujaku came right there and then, semen splattered all over Aoba’s palm, which Aoba had positioned just so he could catch it, his chest raised and fell as the orgasm took over his control.

“Great job. You managed to endure two seconds longer than yesterday night,” Aoba whistled.

“Aoba, seriously…” Koujaku covered his eyes with the back of his hand, still breathing profoundly. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“I’ll be disappointed if I’m not,” Aoba snorted. “Hold on just a bit, I’ll get myself ready for you.”

Koujaku didn’t even want to see what Aoba was doing. Just from the vulgar slurping sounds he could hear from below him, he could tell that the only reason Aoba was hoarding his semen was just so he could use it as a lubricant to smooth out his inside.

“Still pretty loose from last night,” Aoba said between trifling moans. “Should be… fine.”

“You sure?” Koujaku asked.

“Don’t worry. You don’t have to do anything.”

“You’re going to ride me?” Koujaku probed, finally opening his eyes, just to see Aoba already positioning his dick against his wet hole.

“Are you happy?” Aoba teased.

“Seriously… You’re going to be my death.”

Aoba chuckled faintly before he slipped Koujaku’s dick into him. Like he said, it was effortless. Koujaku’s dick hit him in the hilt in just one push, drawing a long moan out of Aoba as he arched his back, hands pushing against Koujaku’s chest.

“Are you okay?” Koujaku asked, worried. He clutched onto Aoba’s wrist, holding him in place.

“Fine,” Aoba managed to drone. When he fixed eye contact with Koujaku, he was smiling again. Even at times like this, Aoba was beautiful. Every inch of his skin, every expression he showed Koujaku during sex, every gesture of his body -- all of them were beautiful, all of them Koujaku’s. When Aoba leaned in to kiss his stubbles, Koujaku stroked his face, kissing him on the lips when they met eyes again, at the same time when Aoba started to move with Koujaku’s dick in him.

Koujaku could tell that he’s growing old and that his age was catching up. His back aches were more frequent now and Aoba had stopped him from smoking more than once a day. He knew the day would eventually come when his body system fell apart and he’d never be able to function as well as he could anymore.

But for now, when their bodies were connected like this, when they shared heat, filling each other up in both physical and emotional senses, Koujaku felt nothing but pure bliss.

He could be holding his last breath tomorrow and he’d have no regrets.

 

_` Hour 24` _

 

Even during the **final hour** of his death, he knew that he’d lived a life he wouldn’t have traded for anything else. Every moment of his life, every important hour sped past his mind like a film reel, a silent movie. You really won’t realize how much you have gone through in your life until when you’re lying on your deathbed, ruminating on things you should’ve or should’ve never done. Koujaku had gone through hell, he’d gone through heaven too. Pain, happiness, misery, bliss. All of those were part of his life and he’d never changed anything even if he was given an option to.

What were his best hours of his life? It’s a hard question. He could never choose. But if he had twenty-four hours that he could choose from…

These were his best twenty-four hours of his life. And he never regretted any of it.

 

 


End file.
